Matching - 88 words
Kevin Foster
He got up from table thirteen and stepped toward table fourteen, where a blonde woman was sitting, a newcomer to this stop on the speed-dating circuit. She was perspiring, but still she looked good, wearing a modest sundress that he saw hanging loosely around her shins and, he noticed, offered no hints as to her cleavage. He was always worried he would look at their breasts, and then he would but only because he was so nervous. But she seemed nice and he sat down at table fourteen.
No comments:
Post a Comment